


outlive the night

by Dym



Series: waves of night [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Attempted Sexual Assault, Crack, Forgive Me, Gen, Harry is not okay, Self-Insert, Totally self-indulgent fic, Transmigration?, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, gratuitous use of second person, what am i even doing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-17 05:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20615582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dym/pseuds/Dym
Summary: You’ve been reborn as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Your parents are going to die, you’ll grow up neglected and unloved and you have to suicide to defeat the Dark Lord. Shit. You try to do your best to communicate – Peter equals bad, even as you have a side of – is this really the best option? Should you let things play out as written? Should you try to change things? What if you make them worse? Shit, you’re going to die at Halloween, at the Dursleys, at Hogwarts – troll, jinxed broom, Fluffy, Quirrell…





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing… there are many first things. Still, it was dark and warm and you dreamed. Dreamed until it became a nightmare. Dark and claustrophobic – walls caving in around you – pressure squeezing at you, and then lights (so bright) and noise (harsh) and you’re screaming. It’s cold and you’re wet and you keep screaming. Nothing makes sense.

You’re not stupid though – this is a thing not meant to have happened. You… have just been born?

It’s not so bad, you think. You are going to be so far ahead of the curve. However, you’d previously heard of baby brain in the context of pregnant women… your brain really is a baby’s. Your emotions are all over the place, and you have no motor control. None of these are things you want to remember, normally these things get blocked out, right? Is that going to happen to the rest of your memories too? Will this be it? Who are you without your memories?

You are horrified when you put enough together. Your mother, red hair, Lily. Father, dark hair, glasses, James. You, Harry. Magic. You’ve been reborn as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Your parents are going to die, you’ll grow up neglected and unloved and you have to suicide to defeat the Dark Lord. Shit. You try to do your best to communicate – Peter equals bad, even as you have a side of – is this really the best option? Should you let things play out as written? Should you try to change things? What if you make them worse? Shit, you’re going to die at Halloween, at the Dursleys, at Hogwarts – troll, jinxed broom, Fluffy, Quirrell…

Still, you have a year of being loved. Right? One Halloween with Lily and James, mum and dad. A year and some to figure out a way to save them – to work on being able to speak, to let them know there is a traitor and it's Peter fucking Pettigrew. 

You’re wrong. Shit you are so wrong. Halloween, and you’re three months old - “Lily, take Harry and run!” and already… already you know. You reach for your mum – and you’re crying silently – murmured words and He’s here. 

“Not Harry. Take me instead.” Green light. And then Lily, mum, falls. He turns to face you. You glare, because what else can you do? Maybe you die here, and Harry continues the story as it’s meant. 

“Avada Kedavra” Green light. And you know no more.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive were perfectly normal, thank you very much. And then they weren’t, they were so kind and compassionate to take in Mrs Dursley’s nephew, to raise him alongside their own son. The mother was a bit wild apparently – child out of wedlock – parents dead in a drunken car crash. Terrible state of affairs. 

Both boys attended the local primary, and really they didn’t appear to have much in common. Dudley – taller, blond, big boned, plenty of friends. Harry – small, dark haired and skinny. Harry seemingly a cuckoo – clearly in a nest he doesn’t quite belong in. Anti-social. He doesn’t quite seem to be able to play properly with other children unlike his cousin. And then as they moved from Reception classes into Year 1 things changed.

When a child screams, it attracts attention – humans are hard-wired to note the cries of their young, to note the difference between screams of excitement and joy, and sheer gut-wrenching terror. Harry’s scream echoed unnaturally. 

The first teacher on the scene later describes it thus in a rather broken statement to the police.

That. That bastard. I can’t believe it. How? I thought he was nice! Normal! How?! And Harry! The poor boy. He was screaming. And oh God, so lucky. What if. What. If. Was this even the first time? Right, sorry. What I saw. I entered the room and Harry wasn’t screaming any more just sobbing and hiccoughing, you know how children get. Oh God, he’s just a child. He, his trousers and underpants were on the floor. He was still on that man’s lap. _He_ was unconscious – I don’t know how, but the shelf above his desk had fallen and knocked him out. His trousers were still undone. I grabbed Harry. I just wanted him away from _that man_. And well, I stayed with Harry. As you know, we called the police and ambulance. Oh God, do you think Harry will be OK?

Aunt Petunia is deathly pale when she picks him up. There’s a big thing on bad touch which she explains to both Harry and Dudley. 

“I, you know, I wouldn’t let Dudley get hurt.” Big green eyes, her sister’s eyes, promising. It changes everything.

***

You wonder, did this happen in canon? And then you promptly have to take a few deep breaths because – yes it was bad, and yes, accidental magic, and you kinda saved yourself, but what if! What if it happened to the original Harry! What if he didn’t know, or save himself, or hell, even if it was of the other kids! They’re children! And really, you, you’re an adult. OK, you look like a child, but, actually you don’t know where you’re going with this. Better to happen to you. Keep the children safe. Shit, Hogwarts is going to be hell. 

Life with the Dursleys is better. You get the smallest bedroom, and to be honest, you don’t actually mind helping out with chores and cooking. You encourage Dudley to help. It’s a game, it’s fun, occasionally it’s a competition. And you sing and dance around the house as you clean. You had, in your past, been accused of being motherly. Aunt Petunia, despite doting on Dudley, really isn’t.

Aunt Petunia is a great baker, she puts your previous life’s efforts to shame. That said, she slowly struggles to learn to smile when you and Dudley help to bake a cake, despite the mess – you promise to clean it up… and is it some kind of OCD? You don’t know, in a way it doesn’t matter, she won’t admit to anything not normal, and you’re all dealing with it. No wonder she resented the addition of the original Harry. At least you can logic back at her, and well you’re an adult – obviously you’re going to help take care of your (little) cousin. And that last bit – your protectiveness/mothering/caring of Dudley has Petunia and Vernon reaching a much better equilibrium with yourself. You wonder how much this will change and whether they’ll still be OK with you when you get the Letter. 

You’re an adult, but apparently you were deluding yourself to think you could handle everything without any side effects. You are not OK with being close to any adult male, especially a teacher. It’s bearable with ones you know – Dr Javier the dentist, who always has you and Dudley take two stickers each, Uncle Vernon – you _know_ he’s not like _that_. You discover on a late night car journey, that no, you really aren't handling everything, Dudley already asleep on the back seat, you’re not far behind and then the green, green light of the traffic lights and you don’t think you screamed, but the next thing you know, the car’s pulled over and you’re now in the middle seat and Aunt Petunia is stroking her hand through your hair. Apparently you’re not as over Halloween as you thought. Post-traumatic stress?

A few days after that incident – Dudley is playing over at Piers, you sit down with Aunt Petunia. You don’t know where to begin.

“Aunt Petunia.” She moves to show she’s giving her attention. “the… I remember. I remember a green light and it hit mum and she…” you don’t finish, because Aunt Petunia is looking at you now, pale blue eyes fixed on yours, and she says, voice too high pitched, too shrill.

“You remember?”

You nod. She repeats herself, this time it isn’t a question. 

“You remember.” Haunted.

“I think that’s why at the traffic lights...” you trail off. Your aunt’s gaze goes distant, and you wonder if she’s thinking the same as you. You can’t end up paralysed every time there’s a green light. Desensitisation therapy? Is that a thing?

It’s over a week later – and apparently it is. There is a green bulb in your bedside lamp. On the one hand, would this really be therapist approved? On the other, do you care as long as it gets results? Aunt Petunia probably isn’t the best mother material. You probably should be seeing a therapist for… well… everything, but no one would believe you and if you can’t be honest… well, you also don’t think you could ever trust someone like that… and all your future knowledge.

You’re actually a bit worried about that. You’re not sure how good, how accurate the information you hold is… not really. You thought you had over a year to prepare for Voldemort. Instead you had three months. If you got that so wrong, what else are you missing? And, maybe worse – who ever said this would be like canon? What’s worse than no information? False information believed to be true. You are going to have to find a workaround for that. 

It gets added to your to do list then. Along with Occlumency. Potential future knowledge regardless of accuracy needs to be protected. Only you only have fan knowledge to go on and there isn’t a way to get any books on it, so. Meditation instead. You play the flute and learn to breathe. You run and race Dudley and Piers and the other kids at school and learn to breathe again. You help the slower students with their work and get told off for talking too much. You also get praised for helping out so you’re not sure which wins out. You start having a plan. 

You are never going to look Snape or Dumbledore in the eye – and hey, you have a valid excuse to be uncomfortable in their presence – you wish it were just an excuse. Your skin crawls. Huh, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are _not_ going to let Hagrid take you shopping _alone_. But no eye contact until Occlumency is complete. You wonder about the Horcrux. 

It makes you sick to think about – he put a part of himself in you. He’s _inside_ of you. How do you recover from that? You try to sense it, sense _him_ within yourself. There is nothing. How do you test for the presence of a soul anyway? How do you quantify such a thing? You have to take it for granted that it exists or else… what else is a Horcrux?

You start planning and you can’t entrust any of it to paper, so in your head it remains, constantly being refined or amended.  
1\. Philosopher’s Stone – keep out of it.  
2\. Grab the diary from the cauldron at Flourish & Blotts. Date is whenever the book signing is. And there’s (another) creep. Gilderoy Lockhart. Urgh.  
2a. Should you try to take out the Basilisk earlier? Just in case? All you need is a chicken, a rooster? Right? Actually is it weak to a Mandrake’s cry? How soundproof is the Chamber, could you test it with that? Though presumably chickens are easier to get hold of. It would be awesome to kill the Basilisk with a Mandrake though.  
Anyway, better file a will first if you’re going to do that. Who do you even file Wills with? The Ministry of Magic? Gringotts? Solicitors? Does the Wizarding world even have those? Did your parents leave a will?  
3\. The Rat. That’s another one to do early – contingent on getting into Gryffindor and befriending Ron. Also how to catch a rat? Animagus Reversal spell is a canon thing? Or just fanon?  
4\. Don’t let Cedric die.  
5\. Don’t let Sirius die.  
6\. Surely things will be different enough? You can get rid of the Diary, and the Diadem, the Locket… how on earth are you meant to get the Cup? Are reparations a thing? Could… Neville claim it?

Another thing to look into. Occlumency, Animagus Reversal, Reparations, Will. First year is going to be very busy.


	3. Chapter 3

The letter arrives on a normal morning. You aren’t the one to pick it up. That’s Dudley because you’re assembling butterfly cakes for the school fête. Aunt Petunia is putting the finishing touches on her Victoria sponge and Uncle Vernon is reading the paper in between glum glances at the cakes not meant for eating.

“Letter for you, Harry! It...” Dudley trails off. “Mum, Dad, it’s a bit weird. How do they know which bedroom is Harry’s?” On the one hand – that’s really creepy – why doesn’t Hogwarts consider that a bad thing? How have more Muggleborn parents not called the police on them? Or does the Wizarding world have different views on stalking and privacy? That actually might explain a lot. Also scaring Dudley – really not cool. On the other hand, finally the letter, cue magic reveal and… time for the really hard work to begin. You’re going to end up in Hufflepuff at this rate.

“What?” Uncle Vernon, already rising from his chair.

Aunt Petunia’s calm, “I think I know what it’s about. Put it on the side table, dear.”

You exchange a look with her – it basically says – finish what you’re doing first – then worry about everything else. It’s actually quite nice having someone on the same wavelength.

After the cakes are packed and ready to transport, you all take seats at the table. Aunt Petunia hands you the letter. “Before you open it. I think you may already know, but magic is real, and it is dangerous and your parents died because of it.” She sniffs. “Although even without it they may have gotten themselves killed anyway.” You think this is probably true, they seem to have been the hero type, the type to put themselves in harm’s way for others, and their beliefs.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...” you skim through the expected text. “It says we await your owl. For a response?”

Details are exchanged. You pour over the letter with Aunt Petunia. You make plans together – Uncle Vernon and Dudley chiming in. Dudley is excited (magic) and wary (it killed his aunt and uncle), and finally upset – you won’t be attending the same school after all. You try to console him anyway.

“Dudley – I’m sure we can find some things we can do together.” and really you are thinking – Potions? Pranks? Not that the latter would hold Aunt Petunia’s favour.

Aunt Petunia brings out the letter from Dumbledore… the letter you were left with on a doorstep in November. You consider that you think that’s irresponsible and you were the baby in question, no wonder Aunt Petunia doesn’t think much of him. The letter also reads as a threat. Safety only guaranteed if she took you in. You think about that – there is a great deal of power imbalance – how do they justify themselves? Why not arrange some in person discussion afterwards to soften the blow? To reassure that it isn’t a threat, just the last vestiges of a civil war forcing abruptness?

Uncle Vernon is the one to point out that when shopping for this stuff and finding a return owl, you shouldn’t be obviously Harry Potter. Part of you is surprised, you agree with his reasoning, and the idea, but you’re not sure you would have picked up on it yourself if you didn’t already know. You suppose real life is a lot less two dimensional than words on a page. Your… your family are real people, with their own thoughts and opinions. You probably ought to bear than in mind more often.

Ultimately, you like Aunt Petunia’s plan. Contacts instead of glasses – it worked for Superman, right? A touch of concealer for the scar and… she takes you to have your hair cut and coloured. There’s an unspoken agreement that red would be too much. Too much like Lily and too much to go unnoticed. It is tempting though. Instead you leave the hairdressers with honey brown locks with blond highlights. You already had a hard time recognising yourself in the mirror and it’s been a while – this is worse. So you’re pretty sure it will work.

Your uncle takes a couple days off work – summer holidays – long weekend with the family. Granted it’s a long weekend in central London. Dudley and his dad will do the touristy things, while you do your school shopping with Aunt Petunia. You all set off together, Aunt Petunia guiding you to the Leaky Cauldron.

“So where is this place then?” Uncle Vernon. You aren’t surprised that he can’t see the pub. You _are_ surprised to find out that both Aunt Petunia and Dudley can.

“But Dad – it’s over there.”

Aunt Petunia’s eyes are distant. You wonder what this means, if it means anything at all.

You head through the pub – Aunt Petunia collars the barman - “I’d like to enter Diagon Alley” her distaste, you think, is obvious.

Gringotts is interesting. Your aunt pushes to see an account manager – someone in charge. The few people in the bank within earshot seem a bit confused, but it makes sense, right? Why would she deal with a bank teller when she wants to find out more about their banking set up and their accounts on offer?

What follows is a whirlwind and you find you have not only an appreciation for how your aunt has done it but also for people putting up with it when you do the same. A new key to the Potter vault, a statement of holdings to be sent to Aunt Petunia as your guardian. You dither for a moment and then well… why waste the opportunity?

“Did my parents leave a will with Gringotts?” at the negative answer you droop slightly.

“And with whom would my sister and brother-in-law have left one?” You appreciate the backup.

“Likely with the Head of the Wizengamot.”

“And if I wished to create a will – is that a service Gringotts is able to offer?” You sense rather than overtly notice your Aunt’s discomfort.

“Indeed, Mr Potter.” the goblin is interested in you now, you think.

You finish your first visit to Diagon Alley and you haven’t actually bought anything yet. You’ve spent the day going over making Dudley your heir, or at least his bloodline – proxy-heirs to a magical line that may not ever be magical enough to claim it all.

When you stand outside the Leaky Cauldron, your aunt turns to you.

“You don’t have to go.” (stay, don’t die, you shouldn’t need to be writing a will. Children shouldn’t worry about their own mortality.) and you are Tempted, but this isn’t something you can hide from.

“I’ll be sure to have a plan.” (or two, or several. I don’t have a choice, not really)

The second trip endears Petunia to you more. You have to buy a trunk with extended space to hold all the books – most of which come from the second-hand shop and then, after a lunch spent skimming through Potions books, since “There are no limitations on Potions making”, you head to the apothecary. Together you purchase enough materials to make several potions at least three times over. It’s tempting to buy more, but until you’ve fully read the books – there’s little point.

A trip to use one of the postal owls – a short note, accepting the place. You wonder what they’ll make of that. It literally only says that.

It’s an afterthought to buy your wand. It goes as you expected. Ollivander is creepy and it was clear that Aunt Petunia did not like him. Or his commentary about Voldemort’s wand and your own. Neither of you are in the best mood as you leave.

You perk up afterwards. One look at your faces and your uncle suggests dinner at a slightly more upmarket restaurant than you’re used to these days. Italian food and you admit to slight envy as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon share a bottle of wine. That’s made up for when you and Dudley both get desserts and share them. Truthfully, it’s doubtful that you’d even like wine at this age, with these taste buds. Will you even live long enough to like it again?


	4. Chapter 4

You enter Platform 9 ¾ and this time it’s with newly dyed black hair. Despite your experiments in Potions, the attempt at Lily-red hair – Aunt Petunia approved when she’d learned that Severus Snape was one of the teachers – had not gone to plan. Peach-pink hair that refused to be Potioned as any other colour. So regular hair dye it was. Thankfully your eyebrows and eyelashes remained untouched.

So you head in, actually looking like Harry Potter, you wonder how long it will take for people to catch on.

Apparently longer than canon. Whilst you were tempted (very tempted) to find an empty compartment, you seek out one with (hopefully) other first years.

There’s a girl. _ The_ girl. Hermione Jean (Jane? Which was it?) Granger, brightest witch of her year, portrayed on screen by Emma Watson, cause of a great deal of arguments (on the internet and otherwise) as to whether Hermione Granger is white or person of colour? (Idly you wonder if now WOC can also stand for witch/wizard of colour?) Bushy brown hair and brown eyes. Surely. She’s gorgeous. You are quite possibly a Hermione stan. You think she’s probably mixed – black and ? She reminds you of other brilliant girls, young women.

“Hi there, do you mind if I join you?” You address the question to Hermione and the chubby round faced boy you suspect is Neville. You feel a little bad that your smile is probably greater for Hermione.

“Oh no, please do. My name is Hermione Granger. This is Neville Longbottom. Are you a first year too?” She’s so keen and enthusiastic – did she never run out of toddler energy?! Best student ever! <3

“It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Harry Potter – and yes a first year as well.”  
Is it bad that you low-key want to adopt these two? Actually – maybe that’s something for the future.

You chat amongst yourselves. You try and guide Neville into opening up some more, which is a bit hit and miss. He’s clearly intimidated by the fact that both you and Hermione have read through your school books, but you start asking him questions related to Herbology and he shines. Then you lead onto talking about life in the Wizarding world and Hermione’s interest and pleasure in discussing and discovering the differences between the Wizarding and regular worlds is clear to you both. You’re still keeping a vague eye out for Trevor and it’s when the trolley witch comes that he makes an unsuccessful break for it.

“Oh! Thank you!” to which you respond with a happy grin. Here, something easily solved.

The trolley witch commends you on your reflexes, as well. You thank her and somewhat shyly ask about the different snacks on offer. You buy several chocolate frogs (to share obviously) and a few pumpkin pasties, and ask her name. Verity Maywell. You introduce yourself with a smile and “thank you for all your help.” Ms Maywell’s pleased expression stays with you until the compartment door next opens. 

It’s an odd mix of people to be sure. Draco Malfoy, and his two not thugs, they’re still children here and now, Ron Weasley, and two other boys…

You grab Trevor again, in sync with Hermione this time and your hands clasp around each other.

“Oh!” Hermione.

“Trevor!” Neville.

You let out a laugh of delight. “Great reflexes Hermione!” You return Trevor to Neville. You don’t even get the chance to say something before… 

“You’re Harry Potter!” from Ron. The others’ faces are priceless - is there a way to print photos from a Pensieve?

“Of course he is, Weasley! No need to point out the obvious.”

You interrupt before what you assume would be yet another argument can erupt. 

“Is there a reason all of you came to find me rather than waiting for introductions at Hogwarts?”

“Harry.” Hermione’s tone is a bit chiding.

Draco actually looks a bit frustrated. 

“Potter, as the Boy Who Lived your name carries some weight and it would be good for you to establish relations with the right sort.”

“Well, he’s not going to know the right sort if he hangs around with you!” Ron is actually leaning into Draco, trying to physically intimidate the smaller boy and completely ignoring Crabbe and Goyle. 

In the end, between Hermione, Ernie Macmillan, and Zacharias Smith (you finally had the names of the two who has accompanied Ron), everyone crams into the compartment and offers up introductions. 

You sigh, you really want to tease the children, but you’re an adult - you have to be a bit more responsible. Only a bit though.

“Look. I know very little about any of you, and none of us will know more about each other unless we attempt to become friends… and one of the first things anyone needs to know if they’re going to become friends with me…” It’s cute how they’re hanging onto your words. Hermione looks vaguely troubled, Macmillan is nodding along.  
“...you don’t have veto power over my friends.” You see the confusion and continue in an effort to stave it off, “...in other words, you can be my friend, but that doesn’t give you the right to decide who my other friends are.”

That gets approval from Hermione, and Ron and Draco are clearly going to put their feet in it but Neville (of all people!) gives them both a nudge.

You break the awkward silence with “So what Houses do you think you’ll be in at Hogwarts?”

That starts conversation at least - _and_ on a topic everyone has some opinion about.

As for yourself - you’re hoping the ‘not Slytherin, not Slytherin’ trick will work for you as it did the original Harry. You are, afterall, pretty sure that original you aged eleven would be Slytherin - later life drove that to be Ravenclaw with a desire for Hufflepuff traits, which most people probably thought you did have. (Fake it until you make it.) You need Gryffindor though. On the other hand, maybe you’ll just be happier if the Hat Sorts you and doesn’t kick up a fuss at not-quite-possession, not-quite-many-things, but definitely not-quite-right.

Ernie banks on Hufflepuff. Draco, Slytherin, Crabbe, no, Vincent and Greg nod along with that. You really need to focus on the fact that these are all still children. Ron makes a bold statement for Gryffindor and describes his numerous siblings once under Hermione’s inquisitive spell. Zacharias also puts himself forward for Hufflepuff.

“So no one for Ravenclaw then.” You muse out loud.

This gets you and Hermione some rather obvious (they are only eleven) side eyes. Hermione responds somewhat haughtily (are the boys rubbing off on her?).  
“I would like to be in Gryffindor,” a beat, “I heard that’s where the Headmaster was.”

“No doubt Potter,” Draco begins and you interrupt with “Harry, please”. He continues, “Harry, then, will end up in Gryffindor.” The others all nod in agreement.

“You don’t agree?” Hermione, but Neville’s also looking at you in some concern.

“Er, I’m not sure I’d be considered brave enough for Gryffindor.” Or reckless enough, you add mentally. 

Apparently, you’ve dropped a bombshell.

“The… that. That’s ridiculous! Of course you’re brave enough! You’re the bloody Boy Who Lived!” Ron is the first to get over his shock.

“Weasley’s horrible grasp of language aside - he has a point.” Draco.

“About something I supposedly did as a baby?” Maybe you can invoke some common sense and critical thinking in them. 

Really. A regular infant wouldn’t be able to do much and you _certainly_ didn’t. What’s more - how would trauma as an infant lead to being in Gryffindor? Wizards. Urgh.


	5. Chapter 5

“Gryffindor!” And you sit there for a moment - this is _not_ as expected. It’s what you wanted, sure, but expected? And without needing to bribe/blackmail/whatever the Sorting Hat? Is this the Plot taking control? Is that even a real thing? The entire Sorting goes as per your memories - you are undecided as to whether this means your foreknowledge is valid or if some things are pretty fixed. Fixed points in time à la Doctor Who. 

You make conversation - easily greeting Seamus and Dean - already fast friends. You accept Percy’s introduction and laugh when the Twins (fully deserving of the capital letter) interrupt. You are gentle when you ask Parvati about being split from Padma. She puts on a brave face (Gryffindor, you know), but seems pleased you asked and admits it will be strange not to be alongside her twin (part of you wonders if they ever switch places like Fred and George. You also wonder if you’d ever know. Oh gods - and original Harry and Ron take them to the Yule Ball… that isn’t going to happen, but as for alternatives?? Maybe you can take Myrtle instead. Positive - no worries if anyone tries to target her, negative - could end up with a ghost stalker). 

The trek up to the Gryffindor common room and dorms seems far too long on already fraught nerves and food induced sleepiness - also - Hogwarts is big. The scale is lost in the books and even in the films. It’s going to take a while to learn your way around… and all without the aid of a very useful Map (if you ever get it in this time…).

You refrain from just falling asleep fully clothed on the closest bed - which is convenient since that’s not actually your bed. You grab pyjamas, toiletries, and have a wash before falling into what is most definitely your bed. Your own good example of hygiene is taken note of and at least the boys all bleary eyed make some attempt. 

You’ve all just gotten into bed and said goodnight when you softly ask the darkness - has anyone set an alarm for tomorrow? There’s possibly a response but you don’t hear it - already drifting off.

“So what’s the most disturbing fic you’ve read?” your friend asks, it’s not the strangest thing about this scene - for some reason, she’s blonde. You’re pretty sure her natural hair colour is a dark brown… but she’s blonde, isn’t she?

You answer - huh, I don’t know… something with betrayal I guess? Especially when you don’t see it coming. Or rather when the main character doesn’t see it. And it tears you apart as the reader. And you wish, you really wish that you could somehow get revenge for them.  
You pause, and ask her - what about you?

“It was advertised as H/D but it wasn’t the endgame pairing.” 

You laugh and she puts in another plug for her OTP. 

You hush her agreeably - yea, yea. You look up at a mirror, your reflection smiles, but you’re not smiling. You turn away and catch a flutter of cloth - you follow, you follow. 

The first morning of classes dawns and you bemoan the fact that pumpkin juice is the beverage of choice. Water? Tea? Actually you can probably do water. 

“Aguamenti” you cast over your goblet. It, to your surprise, works. Maybe you can do this magic stuff after all. You get a clamor of “Cool!”, “Teach me!”, which quickly trails off as Professor McGonagall come to hand out timetables and congratulates you on your spell and admonishes you that magic isn’t permitted outside of classes and certainly not at the dining table. You accept both graciously and catch her before she can move on.

“Ah, Professor McGonagall, sorry, is there a way to request water from the kitchen staff?” (and why not in for a penny, in for a pound), “and also tea for the table?”

Day two, and there is both water and tea at the table. It’s needed. It’s barely September and this is a Scottish castle, you’re not used to the cold of the North. You make a mental note to work on Warming charms. 

Something that had and had not surprised you about Hogwarts - the timetable. For yourself, it’s very sparse. You suspect your Muggle-raised fellows agree. Then again, seven years of students, four Houses, only one professor for each subject and how does this differ from a university professor? Is this to do with the titles - Potions Master, Charms Master? Do they have Masters? Is that something different in the wizarding world to the regular world? Regardless, that many students to teachers - it’s no wonder your timetable is littered with free periods - more time for self study and your own research. This explains how the Marauders had time to study to become Animagi and develop the Map, how Fred and George had time (will have time?) to develop pranking products for their future business, and why Hermione opted to take _all_ the electives. 

You wonder if the timetable itself is magic. Will it auto-update if classes are changed or cancelled? You consider that canon revealed flying lessons with a note in the common room and sometimes you really really wish magical folk took full advantage of magic. Or possibly that’s somewhat disrespectful - you think you’d read a fair few fanfics relating belief and faith to magic. You itch to read them again. You presumably never will. Your life is hard. 

Still, you don’t have Potions until tomorrow. Today you have the delights of History of Magic (surely some enterprising student has transcripts for sale?) and Defence against the Dark Arts. With Quirrell. Your life is definitely hard. 

You are pretty sure you can’t just publicly denounce Quirrell as being possessed. If only your life were that easy. Still, it’s not until the afternoon, which gives you plenty of time to procrastinate in the Library, once you find it.

The Library. Is. Well, you’ve always loved books. You’d pretty much had one of your own, still adding to it though at a much slower rate once you discovered and devoured fanfiction. You’ve been in some gorgeous old bookshops and this, this has them all beat. So many books! So. Many. Books. It’s calming and invigorating at once. 

Hermione takes a look at your face and smiles brilliantly. “Isn’t it amazing? I don’t know why you didn’t come yesterday. Let me introduce you to Madam Pince, the Librarian.”

“I was trying to be good and get to know my roommates, this, this is, how do you tear yourself away from such temptation?”

The answer comes an hour later when you’re in the midst of taking notes on sunlight and warming charms, conveniently located together. You think, home for Christmas, maybe, definitely introduce Hermione to your family - discuss the possibility of some form of Regent position with her, her parents and your own family - for Dudley’s sake. 

Sometimes you really despair at the magical world - the fault lines are there for everyone to see. Civil war and unrest doesn’t surprise you - you’re only amazed it doesn’t happen more often. Once you’ve done as best for your family as possible you can attempt to take out the Basilisk. Maybe there’s some animal taming charms you can use on the rooster? Roosters?

“Harry! It’s nearly time for class!” Hermione’s excitement is endearing, as is her whisper-shout (you are in a Library, after all). You think this is going to be another class to disappoint her. 

Defence against the Dark Arts and Quirrell is quite possibly the strangest liar you’ve ever met. His stuttering is inconsistent for one, and yet his fearfulness actually seems real? You consider being a spy and host for an evil entity while in the domain of said entity’s greatest enemy, maybe you’d be squirrelly too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JKR's timetabling is non-existent, so will mine be! ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

“Ah yes, Harry Potter, our new - _celebrity_.”

The moment you’ve been waiting for. It’s as foul as you’d feared, and you’d even had a fondness for the double agent. Also a fondness for Snarry, which definitely isn’t happening, also - what were you thinking? You know what you were thinking - teenaged going on aged. Adult perspective had changed your view on teacher/student romances entirely. Granted, you’d still read Snarry when it coincided with time travel - or at least there needed to be something to put them on an even footing - time skips also worked. 

This all flashes through your mind and you _know_ you can never ever let Severus Snape use Legilimency on you. Not that you were planning to give him the opportunity. You might spontaneously combust out of embarrassment. 

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” ...and so it starts, and surely everyone knows that a sucrose solution added to a tincture of wormwood is far preferable.

“Draught of the Living Death, Professor”

He harrumphs. “Correct, and where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“In the stomach of a goat, sir.” you want to add ‘although I imagine you also have some to hand here’, but settle for “It’ll protect you from most poisons.” What you definitely will not be advertising is that you’re keeping one in your robe pocket. 

The Potions Master had started off pacing around the room but the circles had gotten tighter and he was very clearly narrowing in on you. You ignore the gaze fixed on you, there are several, but truly only his concerns you right now. You keep your body posture submissive, head and eyes tilted downward.

“What is the difference, Potter, between ladies thimbles and bloody bells?” and you’re thrown - not monkshood and wolfsbane - but ladies thimbles and bloody bells - the same answer though…the spelling.

“They’re the same plant, also known as foxglove.”

“Correct.” You can feel his stare and that just makes you keep your eyes even more fixed upon the desk before you - is he going to continue with questions? Your posture is most definitely no longer any form of relaxed. You attempt to breathe - slowly, calmly, measured. 

The tension breaks with barked orders to brew the potion on the board - you’re not partnered, but Neville has the next station over from you. You at least remember to prevent him from adding the porcupine quills before taking the potion off the heat. 

The class is quieter and more focused than your picture of canon - is this all just because you were able to answer? Or is it again - your views and remembrances of canon aren’t entirely accurate?

You submit a sample which you hope will at least meet acceptable standards. You flinch at the “Potter, stay behind after class.” that accompanies your submission. You pack up your stuff - dallying slightly - you look at Hermione, you really hope she’s as clever as everyone always said. She dawdles as well.

“Granger, there is no need for you to also remain behind.”

“Please Professor, I would appreciate it if you allowed her to stay.” your voice sounds odd to your ears. Hermione comes to stand beside you.

“Harry?” She starts.

“Enough! Granger you may wait outside.” Snape interrupts. 

You run through what you know - male, adult, skilled wizard, Death Eater, your mother’s friend, adult male, teacher, Head of House, spy, adult male teacher, Death Eater - fight is impossible, flight - likewise. How long since Hermione left the classroom and the door swung shut?

“Mr Potter, you show some talent at brewing - your mother was also quite gifted - it would behoove you well to follow in her footsteps.” 

You blink. You breathe. You repeat, once, twice, three times. You can work with this. You will work with this. Apparently your summer Potions studies have paid off and you’re a James Potter clone with _her_ eyes and her abilities? You think back to the Aguamenti charm on the first day - apparently so.

The silence grows. Ah, yes, you’re meant to respond.

“Ah, thank you Professor.” You chance a brief look up - catch your gaze on his nose. “My aunt mentioned you were close with my mother.” You spot it only just - his jaw tightening at your words.

“Mr Potter, am I to understand that you’ve been raised by your mother’s sister?” Soft, silky, threatening tones. You nod, the threat’s not directed at you. An abstract part of your brain thinks - ah, and for canon Harry that wasn’t a good place for him, for you it’s better, but your Professor has only childhood memories of a bitter girl to go on. 

And. Oh. The letter.

“Ah, Professor, my aunt wrote a letter for you,” and you don’t exactly trust, is that the right word here? - any of the staff members, and you still don’t, but you think, you hope that there’s a vow and a Life Debt tying this man’s loyalty to you. You duck to rummage in your bag for the letter and you may not _exactly_ know what the letter says - but you have an idea.

Handing it to him is a mistake. You catch his eyes with yours. You’re still crouched over your bag, and he looms and you blank out, a deliberate blue screen of death. You breathe. You push yourself back, away. He approaches.

“Don’t. Please.” You hold up a hand. Laugh shakily, otherwise you’d cry. “I expect the letter explains it all.”

“Mr Potter.” Concern.

“Please, sir, just read the letter.”

He picks up the letter, opens it and you think he’s caught the gist as his body tenses. Then you suspect he’s reading it again - slower.

“Are the other professors aware of this?” and immediately you think you do not want Quirrell and Voldemort to know. That might actually destroy you. Is that a line that even the Dark Lord would cross? Can’t risk it. 

“I would prefer the knowledge remain with you, Professor.” and you find, that’s actually true. He was your mother’s best friend first - Aunt Petunia confirmed. Out of the love he bore your mum, presumably he won’t use this information against you. And to be honest, he’s the only male teacher you’re likely to ever be alone with. Well, him and Dumbledore.

**  
Severus has a dilemma. Lily’s son was left with Petunia, who from her letter actually sounds fiercely protective of the boy. That hasn’t kept him safe. In fact, that incident is the probable cause for the protectiveness, that, and guilt.

Lily’s son, stiff and tense and waiting for a blow to fall. Terrified.

He’s caught a glimpse of the incident in question. The man was behind Harry and Harry so small, and he, Severus, had caused a flashback. 

And Harry was trusting him to what, decide if it was appropriate to tell other members of staff? And maybe if the Dark Lord were truly gone - it would be safe to mention, safe to help an obviously still traumatised boy, but He isn’t. 

And his own guilt won’t let him reveal this potential exploitable weakness. Brave boy - no wonder he ended up in Gryffindor and with the beginnings of a good friendship in Granger - another brilliant <del>doomed</del> Muggleborn.

He does wonder at the postscript though, unable to revert the Colour Changing Potion on hair?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Severus Snape's speech is lifted directly from the book.


	7. Chapter 7

It occurs to you that the ripple effects of your family _not_ ostracising you extends to Hagrid - which has resulted in no Hedwig, no clue about vault 713 (if that even was the number), no newspaper mentioning the break-in, and further even - no dragon smuggling… so many ripples and even then - who’s to say what is the better outcome? Surely three children (children!) not going to confront a mass murderer is a good thing, and Ron won’t get bitten by Norbert(a), and none of you will end up in the Forbidden Forest to nearly fall prey to Quirrelmort. 

But if Hagrid loses his house or Norbert(a) gets out of control, or Quirrell getting his hands on the Philosopher’s stone… You can at least intervene if the dragon situation occurs. Regarding the Stone, however, you have no intention of heading through potential death traps and looking in the Mirror of Erised - even if you are curious as to what you’d see - you think it would probably lead you to despair at what you cannot possibly have.

Still, you’ve averted the danger of the troll to Hermione at Halloween, you have plans for the Basilisk that will wait until after Christmas, you feel as though you are missing something… someone?

Flying lessons - Thursday next. Joy. While you still wouldn’t describe yourself and Draco as friends as such - the boys - and here you include Neville, Ron, Draco, Ernie and Zach, but not Vincent or Greg as they seem to prefer that Draco do all their thinking for them - it distresses you - why won’t they please think for themselves! - seem united in their bemusement at yours and Hermione’s antics. But frankly, magic. Why wouldn’t you be taking advantage of it (and one of the brightest minds of her age) and bouncing around (occasionally crazy) ideas of things to try. You’ve already suggested and agreed to working on Mary Poppins’ Carpet bag and offered an idle musing as to whether a TARDIS would be possible, or RDIS - since meddling with time is ill-advised for non-Timelords, which you suppose is a programmable Portkey attached to a disguised Wizarding tent. Definitely possible, right? At least you both think so. 

Hammerspace on the other hand might be a very long while in coming. How do you even anchor something like that?

You suppose the boys are beginning to grow on you but truthfully you are patient with Dudley because he’s _family_, these boys aren’t even that, and sometimes you just want them _to grow up_.

Their over-exaggerated boasts about their flying exploits, while Hermione busies herself with attempting to memorise ‘Quidditch through the Ages’, and Neville turns paler and paler, well…

“Gentlemen.” You don’t shout, but you do _project_. “Please calm down. Now, Ernie and Zach have already had their first flying lesson - perhaps they can tell us what Hogwarts expects from us.” 

They share startled glances and Draco looks to be blushing lightly - probably not expecting to be called out on his behaviour. 

“Ah, well - it was mostly the basics,” Ernie begins.

“The school brooms are rather old, so they’re not particularly fast.” Zach.

You tease out of them that the lesson is how to call, mount and grip a broom, how to hover and come back down; truly, the basics. 

Hermione’s scribbled down notes on a spare bit of parchment from somewhere, and you think - yes, you can relax a bit now.

Then as you head off to the flying lessons - early, since Hermione doesn’t know any other way, Ron detours back to the dorms. 

“Had to drop off Scabbers, somehow I don’t think he’d be fond of flying,” he says with an easy grin. 

And you somehow offer up a smile in return - body on autopilot - hopefully if it isn’t convincing enough, he’ll just chalk it up to nerves. How could you forget about Wormtail? The Animagus revealing spell has suddenly been bumped up the agenda. Also, now that you are Harry Potter, you have a much greater appreciation for Ron - he’s very _genuine_ (as is Hermione, you suppose) and that’s definitely something you need in the people around you. 

“Up.” You command and so it is, though you have no idea what you’re doing with a broom. You aren’t the original Harry, you don’t want to play a death-defying sport. You wink at Hermione, whose broom had bounced up but not far enough and your somewhat teasing works as her next ‘Up’ is much more firm and the broom obeys perfectly. With Neville, on the other hand… 

“Ah, Neville,” you consider how to approach this - what he needs is self-confidence. “We believe in you. _I_ believe in you.” The look of hope and determination on his face says it all and when Madam Hooch instructs him to try again, the broom rises steadily to his hand. 

You keep an eye on him and Hermione, with glances to check that everyone else is still okay. It’s nerve-wracking. You don’t know how Madam Hooch can put herself through this - tiny children careening around on sticks of wood. Flying, you think, is a necessary evil; like learning to drive, hopefully not requiring to be used, but useful in case of zombie apocalypse or other emergency. Your broom lurches as you consider that with Inferi and a potential second war, a zombie apocalypse is actually a possibility. 

No antagonism with Draco, means the lesson goes smoothly, and the more sports-mad boys finish the lesson with flushed cheeks and talking eagerly about flying, Quidditch and their own manoeuvres. Okay, maybe you _can_ see why Madam Hooch puts herself through this. 

You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop when it dawns - that there will be no accidental encounter with Fluffy, because there will be no midnight duel preceding and no broom delivered to set it off! You’ve avoided the death flags! You probably shouldn’t be so cavalier about referencing your own demise. 

Though _that_ may come sooner than you wish. You belatedly realised that a) you don’t know the incantation to reveal an Animagus (easily solved, you hope, with the Library), and b) it’s a Transfiguration spell. Whilst Charms are coming easily to you, you’re having a harder time getting to grips with actually turning one thing into another. It makes no sense, you know that, levitating an item - fine, conjuring water - also fine, presumably it’s coming from the water vapour in the air? Or that aids the spell? Turning a wooden matchstick into a needle - rearranging atoms, rearranging the structure of said atoms - complex carbon-based molecules into steel? Magic, occasionally breaks your brain, but you’ve just about managed such a spell. Transfiguration of living matter, however, that… it’s vaguely repugnant, for all that you eat meat, and have no objection to dragonhide… though you _hope_ it’s ethically sourced.

To save an innocent man (another living creature), you’re just going to have to get over it. 

At least Hermione will help you study.


	8. Chapter 8

Halloween is coming up, and you don’t know what to do about Quirrell. Your Transfiguration has improved however though it’s understandably hard to tell if your Animagus reversal(?) revealing(?) spell actually works. It’s not like Animagi are just lazing around dorm rooms, oh wait. Too, you don’t exactly have any reason as to why you should even be aware of Animagi. Maybe you’re over-thinking the need for justification. Or maybe you just keep trying to distract yourself from Halloween. 

On the one hand, good food - a veritable feast, even! On the other hand, the day your parents died, the day a troll will be let into a school - though this may be the second troll, provided one is already part of the obstacles on the way to the Philosopher’s Stone. You’ll just keep an eye on all your friends, that’s all. 

Practising the levitation charm, actually, doesn’t go too badly. Even if you are all still tired from Astronomy at midnight. What even. You end up paired with Neville, Ron with Hermione, and aside from the moment Seamus set his feather on fire - it’s all fine. No big arguments, Hermione sticks with the group, and you banter about possible uses for the charm. Suggesting Quirrell’s turban gets you snickers from Ron, a shocked gasp from Neville, and a sufficiently dangerous glare from Hermione, that you promise not to do it. You aren’t actively trying to suicide after all. 

You’re still pondering what to do all through History of Magic. You asked Draco several days ago if he thought anyone had class transcripts for sale and he’d gaped at you for a while before promising that if there were, he would share them. He still hasn’t gotten back to you, but maybe you can bug him about it in Defence. In the meantime, it’s making notes on goblin rebellions… you understand wholeheartedly how original Harry ended up with a Poor on his History OWL. And yet if you want to do a Hermione and take all the classes in third year, you probably need to show good grades in the few classes you already take.

Lunch has you in a daze, distracted. You’ve decided to speak up about sending the students to their common rooms - you are pretty sure the Slytherin dorms are in the dungeons and if that’s where the troll is… why would you send the children there? Wizards. Urgh. Though your friends are a little distant, subdued maybe?

“Ron, is something wrong?” You pick the easiest friend to read. He’s also sat opposite, so that helps.

“Wha-” he hastily swallows his mouthful of food, shaking his head vehemently. “Nope, nothing’s wrong, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine?” 

You turn to look at Hermione, sat beside you, giving her a look, which would be much more effective over your glasses, but you like the fact that contact lenses reminds people of Lily more, even if you still cringe inside at poking them into your eyes. Best part of a disguise to ever keep. Ever. 

She sighs, “You’ve been a little… off lately, and well, I realised that Halloween isn’t, um.” She trails off, as you turn enough to wrap your arms around her. Thankfully, she returns your hug. You close your eyes, because you _aren’t_ going to cry. 

“Thank you.” If your voice is hoarse, no one mentions it. Apparently children do manage to have tact at times.

Defence though, you have no idea what you’ve done, but Draco (Malfoy?) isn’t happy. You’re sat with Hermione, you’re attempting to pay attention to Quirrell, and are getting distracted from the potentially murderous dark wizard by a first year’s scowls. Perhaps you need to re-think your priorities? 

When the class is put to practising spells (in pairs, as always), you give an apologetic look to Hermione, and move quickly to pair with Draco.

“What’s with the unhappy face?” and honestly the sour look you get isn’t encouraging, but he should just be grateful you didn’t go with your first option of asking what got his knickers in a twist. 

“You-,” he trembles slightly with pent up words. “You’re constantly with that girl! You hardly spend any time with me! I thought we were going to work on the Poppins bag or whatever it was you called it, together! What’s so good about her anyway? She’s just a-, a jumped-up, know-it-all Mudblood riding on your fame!” 

The silence is awfully loud in the classroom. 

“Malfoy, you-” Hermione’s eyes are wide and shocked and beginning to well. She flees. You move to go after her and <del>Dra-</del> Malfoy pulls you back. 

“She doesn’t deserve you!”

“Well, in that case neither do you right now!” He acts as if you’d slapped him. You close your eyes, try to breathe, your hands are clenched. “Draco, when you have a problem with me or my actions, that is no excuse to insult anyone else,” you continue, “You realise my _mother_,” your voice breaks slightly, “my mother was Muggleborn. I would advise you _not_ to use that- that slur in front of me.”

“Oh?” His sneer is not comforting. You’ve successfully not de-escalated a situation. “What does it matter, since she’s a Mudblood.” Your nails dig into your hands. You bite your lip to not speak and you taste blood and you are so angry. You are incandescently angry. And it takes a startled “Mr Potter!” from Quirrell before you realise that this is literal. You are glowing.

“Ah-Ahguamenti!” Dean, with the charm you’d taught them. Well, you’re soaked now. Crabbe and Goyle are pulling a ranting Ron off of Malfoy. 

“Mr Thomas, perhaps you’d best take Mr Potter to the Hospital Wing.” You stare blankly at Quirrell, before offering a sharp nod - and roughly shoving your stuff into a bag trying to avoid smearing the blood from your hands.

“Hey Harry, let me get that.” Dean, quickly re-ordering everything to fit. “Seamus or Neville’ll get Hermione’s stuff.”

You walk together in silence for a while. You stop. A brief check that no one else is in earshot. “Shit!” “Fuck, fucking, fuckity, stupid, shitty, shit!” Emotion lightly vented, you look up to see Dean mouth agape. “What?”

“I didn’t think you actually swore!”

“What? Why not?”

“Well you never have before!”

You consider that for a moment, because before the others, in front of children you are trying to be a good example and no, you haven’t.

“Huh,” you consider that thought again, “huh,” you groan, “I am such an idiot.”

“Sure, that’s why you’re usually top of the class.” Dean snarks at you.

“Draco’s jealous of the time I’ve been spending with Hermione, and being a spoilt brat doesn’t know how to ask for things nicely.” 

“Wha-,” Dean gives you a look, “and he isn’t remotely a racist prick with delusions of superiority.”

You don’t miss a beat. “That too.” You grin wryly at Dean, lip throbbing as the grin stretches the broken skin. “This is the first opportunity he’s ever had to learn anything different. To learn better.” You pause. “And while it isn’t strictly speaking _our_ responsibility to teach him, he’s not exactly going to find anything new if we leave him to the rest of the Slytherins.”

“Harry Potter, boy saviour. I can see it.” It’s softened with a smile and shoulder nudge. “Er, the Hospital Wing _is_ this way, right?” 

You make it down to the Feast and Hermione isn’t there. More disturbingly, neither is Draco, Malfoy, whatever. You want him to be Draco, you worry he will be Malfoy. 

“Harry! You made it!” Parvati guides you to sit down between her and Neville. “Hermione’s still rage-crying in the bathroom, no one knows where Malfoy’s gotten off to.” 

“Nice to see you again too, Parvati”

She shushes you gently, “I know you want to know what happened. We took Hermione’s bag back to our dorm.”

Honestly, you’re still a little puzzled. Everyone is being nice to y-. “Hermione mentioned the significance of today to _everyone_?” You possibly sound a little plaintive, or frazzled. 

“Just the first year Gryffindors.” Lavender smiles sunnily at you. “You need to eat more Harry!” before starting to pile roast potatoes on your plate.

Thankfully, you never have to test your stomach against Lavender’s impressive desire for you to eat carbs. Quirrell, your unlikely (if it were any day but today) saviour. 

“Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know.”

The hall erupted into chaos. 

“Hermione and Draco don’t know about the troll.” You hiss to Parvati. She pales as your words sink in. 

The Headmaster commands the Prefects to take the students to their dorms, and thankfully you are clear headed enough to dart a concerned look to Professor Snape and the Slytherin table. 

“Seamus, any noise making spells would be pretty good right now!” You tell the boy as you climb onto the House table.

“Lumos maxima!” You say the words softly, your emotions are riding high enough without straining your voice, holding your wand aloft. It attracts attention as intended. 

“Mr Potter!”, “Potter!”, “Harry!” are the varied exclamations. 

“Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy don’t know about the troll!” You exclaim yourself into the slight lull in noise. 

“Enough! Change in plans everyone - students, you are to remain in the Great Hall. Prefects, start doing a headcount. If there are any other missing students let us know. My fellow teachers, it seems we will be tracking down our stray students along with a troll.” 

You slump slightly in relief. Professor McGonagall comes over, and Parvati quickly tells her where Hermione is likely to be. Then, you’re stuck waiting. You’re chivvied off the table, and you have the presence of mind to cast a lazy Scourgify, because really your shoes were on the table - yuck. But, Hermione, and also Draco. Have you changed things enough that they’ll end up dead by troll? 

“Draco might be with Hermione.” the comment comes from left field. 

“Wha-Neville? Why would they be together?” 

You have the pleasure of realising here is a positive change - Neville’s self-confidence is certainly on the up. 

He meets your eyes firmly, “After you left class, I had a few words with Draco. And that he needed to apologise. To Hermione and to you.”

Your mind goes blank and your speechless state clearly reflects that. 

“Oh.” So eloquent. 

The doors open with a bang and Hermione and Draco enter together ahead of Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell. 

You can feel your face stretching into a grin. And even though you know Apparition is impossible in Hogwarts, you think you must have used magic to get to them so fast.

“Never scare me like that again!” You have an arm flung around each of them. You’re pretty sure you’re crying. Tears of relief.

“It seems Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger had the troll well in hand when we arrived.” Professor Snape comments drily.

“We’re OK Harry. We’re OK.” Hermione’s murmuring to you. Draco is somewhat stiff against you.

“So you two are friends again?” Neville’s voice is hopeful. 

“Yes, yes. We’re all friends again… er, that is, I apologise for my thoughtless words earlier, Harry.” Draco clearly isn’t used to apologising, but he does sound awkward and hopeful, which is enough. 

You blink back tears. And take in a sniffly breath. And move to look Draco in the eyes. “Yes, I think we’re all friends.” Honestly, you don’t care how they defeated the troll, you just care that your two friends were in danger, and part of that is on you. If not for your friendship with Draco, he wouldn’t have been in any danger tonight. You suppose that’s going to be a common theme. 

That night, back in your dorms you’re still thinking about it. The risks of being associated with you, they’re mostly minimal until Fourth year. You’ll just have to make your friends aware of the risks, and let them make their choices accordingly. Though if they choose to remain with you, at least they’ll keep their souls. In the metaphorical sense, since Dementors are a potential risk. Patronus charm - yet another thing to work on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not having this earlier, but I was ill, and not travelling (which is a great time to write without (much) distractions). Also when I realised I could put up the Halloween chapter on Halloween... I couldn't miss it ;-) Don't worry though - I don't plan on timing any other chapters similarly. 
> 
> I'm trying to consider various cascading effects from considerably more than a butterfly, and how much 'Harry' might notice. Also I guess in canon the whole having the get the students to their dorms is not just a plot device to have Harry and Ron team up to save Hermione? I've read theories that the dorms are safer than the Great Hall... or maybe it's to let the Third Floor corridor be an easier (more tempting) target...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you worry - far too much, as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. It's been a while.
> 
> This is just a wish for everyone to stay safe. 
> 
> I'm not living under a lock-down (yet?) so I have no guarantees about when I will next update. But wherever you are, be safe, keep positive. This too shall pass.

You’ve realised that if you’re going to do this thing properly you need to sort out the rat issue before dealing with the basilisk. If you do happen to die facing a basilisk (and you won’t, you think, you have a plan and gods willing it _will_ work) then it’s probably better to save the innocent man from Azkaban first. Although that’s innocent of the crime for which they stuck him in there (without a trial, no less), there are the lesser crimes of being an unregistered Animagus and possibly belonging to the Order of the Phoenix (are vigilante groups legal? Was it even a vigilante group or did it have official status? How does that work with Dumbledore being Supreme Mugwump or whatever it was with the ICW?) or depending on just how bad the Ministry is - not reporting on a known werewolf, and definitely trying to feed someone to a werewolf should be prison-worthy. Still eleven years seems a bit harsh for something that could probably be argued down for reasons of age and upbringing. Although again, this presumes that your canon knowledge is valid. Trust, but verify.

You also have startled Professor McGonagall slightly by informing her that you will be returning home for the (admittedly short) Christmas break. You suppose she didn’t get the best impression of your family when she… stalked them(?) - presuming Dumbledore still had her observing them before you were dropped off on the front porch. 

You also have the vaguely dismayed realisation that you have to get presents. Not just for your family, but Hermione, Draco, Neville, Ron, Dean, Seamus, the list goes on. Your attempts to find a common space to hang out has somewhat succeeded. At the moment you’re meeting in a former ballroom on the second floor - it’s possibly a case of being bigger on the inside - to which you’ve added some old furniture from neighbouring classrooms. You really wish you knew conjuration already then you could have fun soft furnishings - floor cushions and bean bags for a start.

Still you have the makings of a little den/study area at one end and with the remainder getting use for spell practice. You’ve been working on an ice skate transfiguration but you don’t know the shape of the blades well enough - more things to do at Christmas. 

You, Draco and Hermione combine to make the main, you suppose, intellectual driving force, with others coming for the practice, the banter or the support that the three of you can give. Yours and Hermione’s explanations somehow make more sense to Dean, Seamus and Parvati, whereas Draco’s are suited more for Ron (to their mutual dismay), Neville, and Lavender; Ernie and Zack - the few times they’ve visited and it’s trailed off through November, had claimed no preference. With Vince and Greg, though, you're pretty sure there is something at play here - learning difficulties, lack of opportunity to learn previously, playing down their own intelligences? They're also, unsurprisingly, a bit shy when it comes to discussing schoolwork. Something to work on, for sure. And if you can get some books on learning difficulties, that would be grand. 

When the Christmas break actually comes, your mental “to do” list is far too long. For presents you’re going with Muggle sweets and stationery - and watch the wizard-raised marvel at biros and highlighters. Stickers too, because foils and holographic ones are awesome. More personalised gifts will just have to be on birthdays, you _don’t_ (sadly) have enough mental capability to do otherwise. 

Regency (? is that even the word?) for Hermione, if her parents accept. Explaining to Aunt Petunia in the meantime. Ice skates. The Rat. Contingency plans. The basilisk. Textbooks on education. Oh, and your homework. That’s still a thing. 

Ultimately, Aunt Petunia listens to logic. You both admit that you are in danger in the wizarding world. If you die, better for Dudley to have some additional legal protection - if Hermione agrees, and it will offer additional protections for her. Sitting down with Hermione and her parents, however, doesn’t go as easily. Apparently they _aren’t_ as well informed on the political machinations of the wizarding world. It’s two days pre-Christmas Day itself that are spent talking it out, and only after having done their own research - a venture into Diagon for books and past editions of the Daily Prophet - and what felt like _an age_, they agree to meet at Gringotts the day before you head back to Hogwarts. In other news, you received lovely thank you’s from your friends, as well as plenty of sweets (wizarding) in kind, a Weasley jumper (you will treasure it), some homemade fudge, various other trinkets, including a rather lovely quill (Draco - you knew that boy liked fancy stationery). 

You have not, however, received your father’s cloak. What. Even. Dumbledore. Which, no matter, right? You will expose the Rat, Sirius will be freed and eventually that cloak is going to come up in conversation. Never mind that if you don’t have it, the stone and the wand, you’ll die at seventeen and stay dead. Though really, you’re hoping you can end the war, a) alive and b) with fewer deaths. In fact, end the war before it begins. Just end Voldemort. Somehow. Shit. Is chronic stress a thing? PTSD on multiple fronts, and chronic stress. Yup. No worries, it’s fine. Or it will be. Fine.

It very nearly isn’t. You (foolishly, like the reckless Gryffindor you apparently are) decide to test your Transfiguration skills the first night back. In the common room. (Have you no sense?) You’d blame it on tiredness after the excellent spread for dinner, but Lavender’s eyes are wide and terrified and Pettigrew _has_ her. You have well and truly fucked up. The room has come to a standstill. Hands are clenched on wands, and nobody seems to dare breathe. 

You step forward. The wand in Pettigrew’s hand jabs sharply and Lavender sobs. You meet her eyes. “Lavender.” your voice is steady, “I won’t let him hurt you.” This is probably not how a hostage negotiation should go. 

“B-b-back off, Potter.”

You glare at him with Lily’s eyes, in James’ face. “I remember you.” he visibly starts. “Uncle Wormtail. What. are. You. doing.” You’re not conscious of it, but you’re later told the air appeared to erupt into flame around you, conveniently spooking the man into running into the not so welcoming arms of Professors McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore. 

Apparently the portraits in the Common Room aren’t just nosy spies, but occasionally a helpful warning system too. Certainly something to keep in mind when you need privacy. 

An hour later, you’re in the Hospital Wing - magical exhaustion, and being questioned by Aurors. You explain, tiredly, again, that you wanted to show off your transfiguration skills. And you had - first, apple into tree ornament, then while you were tempted to do the rat into water goblet… well you’d heard of Animagi - you read a lot… and why not try it out when it shouldn’t work. No harm done, right? And no, you have no explanation for the apparent fire. Accidental magic? 

Eventually you doze off, you sleep fitfully, and when you wake - far too early for how tired you feel - Professor Snape is in a visitor’s chair. 

“Potter. I trust you are sufficiently recovered from yesterday evening’s events?”

You blink in response. Right. Occlumency. You lower your gaze. “I believe so.”

“I’ll inform your aunt of your recovery.” He rises, pauses. “There… may be some questions around the circumstances of your parents' deaths. Pettigrew,” here the name sounds infused with venom, “was known to be a friend of your parents, and was believed to have been murdered.” 

You fight to stop yourself from saying anything. If you do, it will no doubt be some terrible pun - is it serious? Is dying to pass your lips. You won’t. You, no, you really won’t. Bring up the person that tried to murder him? Bad form. Baaad. Form. You probably need more sleep. 

“Is Lavender OK?” you suddenly realise that you don’t actually know. Your mind races with endless possibilities, and... you stop. Freeze. Close your eyes and head down and just try to focus on breathing. That way lies panic and bad things. Breathe. 

“Miss Brown is unharmed. You have been excused from classes for today.” A small pause. “I believe you may find this useful in keeping yourself occupied.” with that he leaves, and leaves behind a slim booklet, _Mind Over Magic_ with no author listed. You stare into the space that once held him. Is this what you think it is? The holy grail of books? An Occlumency text? Or is it… a nudge to say get control over your magic, you overly emotional teenager, pre-teen, whatever.


	10. Chapter 10

_Mind Over Magic._ You have a suspicion about the exact author of the book, though the text is in careful print. It doesn’t take you long to read it. Putting it all into practice, however… It’s describing two schools of thought - one is conceal, don’t feel, the other is let it go. Or if you’re not using _Frozen_ as a guide, then one is meant to be putting aside your emotions (in a mental box?) and the other to embrace them, to feel them, to accept and acknowledge them, to deal with them. Well, you know what you will be doing. Downside? Occasional self-combustion. Apparently adult brain plus child hormones leads to really really strong emotions. And your box isn’t big enough. Sturdy enough. Enough. 

Actually, this probably makes you more insane now than you were as a teenager the first time round. All teenagers are insane. It’s brain chemicals going mad as you transform from prepubescent to final adult form. Add magic to that, and you sense puberty is going to be manic, and you will probably never have such emotional highs and lows… though if you’re going to be going through a civil war… gods, you hope so. Let that be the worst of it, and hopefully you survive. Relatively intact even. 

While you have a day off from classes, part of you thinks you should continue your pro-active streak and deal with the Basilisk. The other part of you reminds yourself that you nearly got Lavender killed and you’re still exhausted. Right. Another day then. You end up excused from the hospital wing (and you really hope you don’t end up there again - hospitals - eurgh) and find yourself napping in your dorm for want of anything else to do. 

You shoot upright when you hear voices that mean first year Gryffindors are back from Herbology. Lavender! You can speak to Lavender. 

You barrel down the stairs into the Common Room. 

“Lavender!” And there, there she is. Whole and perfect. “Are you OK?”

She turns and promptly bursts into tears. That, is not the reaction you were hoping for. Being suddenly enveloped in a hug from her is, however, more along the lines of what you were expecting. 

“It’s OK. You’re OK, now.” You murmur to her while hugging her back. You absently notice that everyone else in the room is mindfully paying no attention to the two of you. 

She chokes on a half-sob, half-laugh. “You’re OK too!”, and wails into a new line of sobbing. 

Actually, your own eyes are starting to tear up in sympathy. Also, standing death-grip hugs? Are not as great as they sound. Scratch that, they don’t sound that great, and in fact they’re worse. You manoeuvre yourself and Lavender to one of the common room sofas, helpfully vacated. You breathe. 

“I’m so sorry Lavender. It’s my fault you were in danger.” You shift so she can easily escape your arms. She does, but only looks at you with reddened eyes and mouth half-open in confusion? Protest?

“No.” What? Ron continues as if he hadn’t just interrupted Lavender’s well deserved outrage at you putting her (and the rest of Gryffindor, even!) in danger. “It’s my fault. H-he was my rat! I should’ve… should’ve known something!”

There’s a chorus of ‘No’s. And a fairly strident “Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. If it’s anyone’s fault it was mine.” Everyone turns to Percy. Somehow you’d forgotten he’d ‘owned’ Scabbers first. “I should have known that he was living too long to be an ordinary rat. I can’t believe that… that man.” He breaks off, face almost matching his hair in colour, he’s clearly furious. And frustrated. And frightened. 

“It’s Pettigrew’s fault. Not yours Percy. Never yours.” And you suppose. That’s true. It’s a little bit your own fault for not ensuring adequate protection for the children in the common room. So you will definitely be confronting the Basilisk alone. Which you’ve been capitalising in your head, almost like a title. The Basilisk. It probably, maybe, has a name. Actually… you haven’t tested the whole Parselmouth thing. Can you really even speak to snakes? 

“Ahem. Thank you Potter, but as a Prefect I still should have done something when he was revealed.” 

You blink at him. Raise a hand from where it rests on Lavender’s shoulder. “One, he was clearly somewhat unstable and two,” you raise another finger, “I doubt dealing with hidden Animagi is in the Prefect manual, and finally, three… you’ll do better next time. Though there hopefully won’t be a next time. Is there a way to passively check all animals for being Animagi?” You started strong, and ended plaintively. 

“If there isn’t, I’m sure we can come up with something.” Hermione, your favourite, is giving you what you think is considered a brave smile. Wow, you and yours are really going fuck up Skeeter’s career. Passive Animagi detection is going to be a thing for all the Gryffindors of this generation. That, could be interesting. 

You try to think of a subtle way to change the subject and get the mood back to normal rather than DEFCON whatever. Actually subtlety is overrated. 

“So what did I miss in classes today?” 

The swarm of replies, is warming.  
“You wouldn’t believe it - McGonagall’s a cat!” “McGonagall almost cried at the sight of your empty desk!” “We have to write two feet on Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration - I’ll never be able to fit everything in!” “Professor Sprout’s starting us on Devil’s Snare next lesson.”

And finally, it seems, everyone is relaxing again. Percy catches your eye, and gives you a very sharp nod - which is interesting you guess. Maybe things can end up differently there as well.


	11. Chapter 11

Fuck Tuesdays. Not even on the level of ‘I could never get the hang of them…’. Tuesdays. Eurgh. They start out great - Charms in the morning. Rapidly go downhill - History of Magic… go further downhill with DADA in the late afternoon. And repeat on Thursdays. Bring on 6th year when you will no longer have to suffer Binns, and also have a competent DADA instructor. 

Though, actually, you would have loved to have known Quirrell’s reaction to Pettigrew’s reveal and arrest. From a distance naturally. A very large distance. 

The news had properly broken Tuesday morning of course. ‘Pettigrew a Death Eater!’ ‘Potters’ Death to re-investigated!’ ‘Black - innocent?’ You’d taken one glance at the headlines and promptly wanted to face-plant in your porridge. Oatmeal face scrubs are a thing, right? Dean and Ron keep you from it. Lavender and Parvati are having breakfast with Padma. Hermione is having breakfast with her nose in a book. Neville discreetly topping up her plate as she picks at it absent-mindedly. 

Draco smoothly appears behind you, bookended by Vince and Greg. 

“Morning Draco, Vince, Greg.” You twist around to see them properly. 

“Morning” is the chorus you receive from Vince and Greg. 

Draco is too busy frowning at you. “Draco?”

“I can’t believe you Gryffindors manage to find trouble in your own Common Room.”

You grin at him, “It’s a talent. I also bake a mean lemon drizzle cake, but that’s pure hard work.” In all seriousness though, he has a point. The Common Rooms are meant to be safe spaces. Hopefully, the children still feel safe in them. Maybe if there’s additional wards - is that an actual possibility? 

“Right.” He huffs. “I’ll see you in Defence. Thomas, keep him out of trouble.”

“As if I’ll be able to do that. Have you seen his messes?” It’s said _sotto voce_. You decide to be nice and pretend not to hear it. 

Charms is fine. Even if it’s a little disconcerting having Professor Flitwick cast concerned looks in your direction. Why at you? Why not at Lavender who was actually held hostage for a while? Is it the whole Boy-Who-Lived mystique? You don’t think you could actually say that out loud with a straight face. Maybe if only for the looks on your friends’ faces. 

You’re still lightly steaming over it when class is over and Hermione guides you into the Library. 

“Well you clearly don’t need my help in Transfiguration.” 

That startles a response out of you. 

“What? Of course I do. Half the time I’m convinced it’s a completely nonsensical practice. And the other half it works too well! Gamp’s law is all very well and good. And OK, Aguamenti may be drawing from the moisture in the air. Although, it’s not good to drink pure water. Those impurities are important. Does magic compensate? Could you kill a normal person by only providing them with conjured water?” You stop when you see the expressions on your friends’ faces.

“How do you even think of these things? Killing someone with Aguamenti? That’s mental!” Ron.

“I can’t believe he even thinks through so many things at once. I’m just glad if my spell works, forget about why!” Seamus.

“No, well, I’m with Harry on the magic is absolutely bonkers part.” Dean. “The killing someone with Aguamenti though…”

“Do you think we’re not normal? Although I admit the word Muggle is a bit…” Hermione. “I think with Aguamenti wouldn’t it depend on whether you’re focusing on pure water or drinking water?”

And yes, intent clearly matters in magic. Unsurprisingly Hermione has a point. 

“That’s the bit you focus on Hermione? The normal people? How do you even know Harry meant Muggles?” And Ron again. You’re glad they’re not completely talking over each other, but you’d also like a chance to respond. 

“Ooookaaayy. So yes, I did mean non-magical people, because Muggle just sounds like an insult whether it is one or not. There are more non-magical people than magical people, so by a mathematical definition - we’re clearly at one end of the bell-curve,” the blank expressions from all but Hermione lead you to elaborate, “the average person is non-magical, we’re the rare exception. Hence, not really normal. And also, Hermione is right, you probably won’t accidentally poison people with water from Aguamenti if you’re intending on conjuring drinking water. Although now I feel like I should look into how to treat water toxicity.” You pause. “Do we have a Medical section in the Library?” 

Ron is shaking his head at you. “Bonkers. Absolutely bonkers. It’s the Healing section, mate.”

Which, helpful. Also, Healing vs. Medicine. Well, it’s useful knowledge to have - especially if the world is heading towards a secret hidden war. All your own “medical” knowledge is geared towards common sense, and with magic the possibilities are quite probably endless - if curse scars and curse damage can be a thing, or things. Are they even considered two separate categories? 

Of course, Hermione has to drag you out of the Library, just when you were getting to the good bits - you’d found what you believed to be the equivalent of medical journals - as in the academic research type and not someone’s diary. Although those would also be highly interesting if the reviews of Kay’s ‘This is Going to Hurt’ are to be believed, which you should have read when you had the chance - because it’s now going to be over a decade before it’s published if you even survive that long. 

History of Magic and you ignore Binns in favour of… OK, doodling for the most part and scribbling memos to yourself in as cryptic a fashion as you can imagine. This habit, sometimes backfires on you as you can’t for the life of you remember what you meant on occasion. 

Lunch and Lavender sits next to you. A cheery, “I’m glad you’re feeling better” and an “Oh, parsnips - yum!”. Is this the fabled resilience of children? You smile back, and your smile grows when you remember you can go back to the Library and read until Defence. Those books are calling you. Not literally as that would imply dangerous magical objects. But they’re calling, so as soon as you can politely leave the table - you do. 

Apparently most magical people aren’t familiar with things like the scientific method or even the Declaration of Helsinki. Zero appreciation for ethics. This shouldn’t surprise you, given the existence of Dementors and a prison like Azkaban. It doesn’t surprise you, not really. You’re just… disappointed. Phenomenal cosmic power and this is what they choose to do with it? Your own focus is on surviving and attempting to stop people from dying. And maybe you have frivolous projects, but the Carpet Bag and RDIS would be very handy in those goals. As would the passive screening for Animagi. And even if those don’t end up being helpful, useful, practical projects… you’re still learning and using those to help you learn. Some of what you are reading is sheer callous disregard for life, for quality of life - and oh, because they were/are non-magical that is supposedly justified? Or because the research “volunteer” doesn’t fit the author’s view of personhood? Which means, for one thing, you’re going to have to institute SPEW earlier and certainly with better research and branding behind it. It’s a small thing, but it will be a start. 

At least you can make public notes on this. Hermione peers over at your scribbles. 

“Declaration of Human Rights - something view? Definition of personhood or sentience something? Law books? Governance? Harry, I thought you were writing the History of Magic essay, what’s this about?”

You look her in the eyes. “Hermione - I don’t even know what laws this world abides by. If I go by that medical journal - torture of sentient beings is perfectly legal.” She pales, shakes her head.

“Surely, those are old articles?” 

“It’s the omnibus edition for last year.”

“So law books. Right. Why isn’t there a class on this if it’s so different to the normal world?” She shakes her head abruptly. “I meant to tell you we have ten minutes to get to class. Less now. Maybe we can ask Professor Quirrell about it. Apparently, he used to teach Muggle Studies.”

Your poker face is pretty good, but it helps that you’d been gathering everything up to put in your bookbag when Hermione made that last comment. You aren’t sure that’s a good idea because Voldemort, but you don’t really have a logical reason to suggest otherwise except for Voldemort. Bugger. Definitely fuck Tuesdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to 'This is Going to Hurt: Secret Diaries of a Junior Doctor' by Adam Kay, which by all accounts is a fascinating read - and is on my 'to read' list.


	12. Chapter 12

So apparently you were being overly melodramatic. What do you know? You’re only the protagonist of a series of children’s books which has already become far darker than a reality you would like to be living. Hermione, for all her righteous indignation, does value her education. So she waits for class to be over before approaching Quirrell. Which means she does it with you and Draco waiting alongside her, and several Gryffindors and Slytherins loitering by the door in curiosity. It _is_ the last class of the day for you all. Why not hope for something gossip-worthy? It’s its own protection in and of itself. 

You walk out with a somewhat disbelieving Hermione and feeling rather dazed yourself. Draco is hovering. 

“This world is very Wrong.” Hermione sounds haunted.

“I don’t understand the problem you two are having.” And this is surely a result of his upbringing. Does Draco just think Hermione and Dean and your mother are some rare exceptions? 

“It’s not just those two.” Dean, who understands all too well.

“Is it a Muggleborn thing?” Ron's words, how are these Ronald Weasley's words? Raised by 'blood traitors' although they don't exactly have a proper understanding of the normal non-magical world, fellytone anyone?

You do actually facepalm at his words. You’ve never facepalmed in real life before in either of your lives. 

“The magical world is apparently still stuck in the Dark Ages in terms of the rule of law. Which means it doesn’t recognise the Universal Declaration of Human Rights or any of the advances society has made to better itself in the wake of… of…”

You fill in where Hermione cuts off, “...of inhumane crimes. Let’s leave it at that shall we, no one wants to lose their appetite entirely.”

“But we have plenty of laws! My father is always talking about them!” Draco sounds confused and offended.

“That doesn’t make them good ones.” Dean retorts. 

And it’s clear that you’re all on the brink of having an argument, fight, blow-up, whatever you want to call it, break out. 

“Time out guys!” You try not to shout, but just project. You think you probably failed. Everyone did quiet down quite suddenly though, so you’ll take the win. “Look, is there any kind of introduction to how the magical world is governed, that sort of thing, so those of us who are interested can get our heads around the existing system?” 

“Perhaps you would be better served utilising the library for your questions rather than loitering and shouting in the corridors.” You have a moment of feeling put out that everyone silenced for the presence of the Professor rather than yourself - you will _never_ have that level of intimidation factor.

And then Hermione’s tugging on your arm and agreeing earnestly. “Of course Professor Snape. We’ll get right on that. Come on Harry.” Which, oh. Apparently that first class had coloured Hermione’s perception of the Professor and not in a good way, which is maybe a bit harsh, since the Professor had been well, his normal self since? Harsh and demanding task master, which was understandable given the potential dangers of the class. A non-magical school would never let any Potions be brewed without several risk assessments and probably a signed waiver from the parents. And maybe he pays more attention to you, singles you out with questions, but that’s to be expected between Boy-Who-Lived and being Lily’s son. The latter probably holds more sway for once. You hadn’t considered Hermione might consider it _bullying_. Something to fix later, somehow. 

“Thanks Professor.” You nod and offer a half-wave as Hermione drags you off. You also wish you had his poker-face, yours still needs work. 

Once you’re all mostly settled around one of the larger tables in the Library - you hadn’t all fit so as a group you overflow to the neighbouring smaller tables as well. 

“I thought he was going to kill us, the way he swept up out of nowhere like…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley.” Draco snorts in response, “Professor Snape was quite correct to suggest we move our… discussion elsewhere.”

“Yes, though it’d be nice if he’d offered an easier fix than ‘look it up yourselves’.” which you muse is a little unfair for you to say, considering the book he gave you. For some reason your comment gets you stared at, so you can only offer up a slightly indignant “What?”.

“Harry, do you really agree with Malfoy about Snape?” Ron’s the first to question.

“Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I?” you’re pretty sure it will take a miracle for Ron to ever use Professors’ titles in casual conversation, hopefully it will take less for him and Draco to use each other’s first names. 

“Maybe because he’s constantly standing over you in class, asking stupid hard questions, pointing out every mistake…” Dean offers leadingly.

“How else will I get better at Potions if my mistakes aren’t corrected?” You consider Dean’s words a bit beyond your first reaction, and you frown considering “although I probably shouldn’t hog all the attention. Do you think I should speak to him?” And this is something that has troubled you before… that Hermione never seems to suffer with - by being the first to answer and the well, best, student - are you depriving the other students of valuable learning opportunities? Another thing to bring up later. You don’t want Hermione or the other children to feel self-conscious because they’re not all at the same academic level. 

“No, I don’t think you need to speak to him about that.” Parvati offers. “I mean, it, er, seems like it works for you, but the rest of us wouldn’t enjoy it.” She smiles. You find Parvati’s smiles are a little bit enigmatic sometimes - this one definitely is.

You acquiesce. “I suppose.” You muse further, “Potions is probably my favourite class actually. Everything else is a bit…” you don’t complete the thought, because you can show _some_ consideration for the fact that things don’t come as easy to all the rest of your friends.


	13. Chapter 13

It takes you precisely one evening in the Library to realise you are a) getting nowhere fast, b) really not a person who can get genuinely into the nitty-gritty of governance and c) wasting your resources. You know someone who once wrote a booklet? Guidance? Regulation? On the thickness of cauldron bottoms. And someone else who wrote a House Elves manifesto! Between them, they can surely give you some comprehensible breakdown of how the magical world is governed and some idea of what the actual laws are. While you can focus on taking care of the Basilisk, avoiding death via Quirrell or Voldemort, learning some Healing, and you’re pretty sure there’s a fourth thing you were meant to remember. You’re sure it will come to you eventually, and hopefully it’s not time-sensitive before then. Right?

“Percy!” you call out to the Prefect, who startles, and turns to you with a sigh.

“Po-” at your frown, he tries again, “Harry. Is there something you needed?”

You came armed, and you gently nudge Hermione towards him. “We’ve been looking into the system of government and associated legal system. To try and understand it, but we haven’t had much success in the Library.” And that is something that had personally affronted Hermione, you are pretty certain of that. 

“It just doesn’t seem to make any sense.” Hermione adds in her comments, “there’s this split with the witch-burnings and the International Statute of Secrecy, but then everything after that is all a bit… woolly.”

“Right, like use of Azkaban as a prison is against the founding laws that were in place before the Statute, and there’s other stuff too, so maybe there’s illegal things happening, but it’s not prosecuted which is just asking for… anarchy?” You are mostly musing out loud with the last bit, but it makes sense. If illegal things occur but everyone ignores it, then what’s the point of the rule of law? Although illegal vs. immoral, there’s another conundrum for you. You think it may be that - people don’t consider things immoral, OR it’s a case of someone else’s problem. 

Percy is frowning at you both now though. He huffs, “surely the Ministry wouldn’t be breaking the law.”

“Sirius Black was imprisoned without trial. That’s illegal. And maybe if he’d had a trial, Pettigrew would have been found sooner.” And that’s the girl you love, full of righteous passion. It’s also a direct hit. Maybe this Percy will be more critical of all authority. 

“Sh-ugar.” Percy glares at Ron, but realises he can’t chew out his younger brother for not!swearing. “This is why you guys were all, this is important, what are the laws, what is the Ministry and what does it do! Anything that lets a guy like Pettigrew go around definitely isn’t good.” 

You now have children realising the importance of being politically aware. You were not this politically aware as an eleven year old the first time around. Such blissful ignorance. Some would probably say let them be children, but education is important. And get enough people talking and then it’ll be _something_. The Magical world has problems. Voldemort, you think, is probably a product of those problems, as well as being a cause for more. Reinforcing the problems? Something like that. 

You can’t believe it’s still only Tuesday. 

**

Wednesday may be your favourite day. You have a deliberate lie-in. Astronomy _is_ at midnight after all. But you have nothing until after lunch with a double Potions block. Best day. You think Professor Snape’s birthday must be around now - you remember it was early-ish January, but you don’t remember the exact date. Of course, even if you did, you couldn’t exactly wish the man a ‘Happy Birthday’ since that would beg the question of how exactly you knew when his birthday was. It also depends on your knowledge being correct.   
#transmigrator-problems.

You _miss_ technology. You didn’t even do more than lurk on Twitter, in forums, on tumblr… but you still miss it. You also miss the Internet and search engines. Scouring the Hogwarts library had been a chore. Maybe this is what the Room of Requirement is for - invented so you actually find the thing or reference you need. You are both too young and too old for all this long-hand way of referencing. Side note: you also miss having word processing software. Referencing your essays is a pain. Maybe you can come up with some spells to do the equivalent of cut and paste. Maybe they already exist? 

Aside from your musings on technology (some of which doesn’t exist yet - how will the magical world remain hidden in a world of smartphones and satellite technology?) and the Professor’s birthday… you still need to do something about the Basilisk. Is it too early to make a move? Will Quirrell’s guest notice? He didn’t do anything with it in canon… too busy trying and failing at getting the Stone… but. You’ve already changed things. Urgh, why do possessed teachers have to be so troublesome? 

Fuck it. Basilisk. Maybe at the weekend? You need to “borrow” a rooster (or two!) from Hagrid. All sneaky-like no less. This would be much easier with your missing Cloak. Not that you’re meant to be aware that you are missing a cloak that happens to be _the_ Cloak. 

Somehow after breakfast you end up with Dean and Hermione trying to explain football to the magical-raised. A few others come to join in and naturally in the face of such derision from both Draco and Ron, a demonstration is in order. You aren’t even a fan of football. Though admittedly in this life you’ve played considerably more pickup games in parks, at school and with Dudley and your uncle. You know enough to help Dean out. 

The game is a success, which you thought it would be. It might be January in a Scottish castle, which leads to frigidly cold rooms. But a bunch of cooped up kids running around in a vaguely competitive game. Naturally it works. With the added bonus that with most of them being new to the game no one feels left behind. 

Neville scores for the purple team, and as the cheers die down, a polite cough cuts through.

“Ahem.” You collectively freeze. Perhaps asking permission to use the room would have been the sensible thing to do first. Professor McGonagall eyes the group. You think she may actually be amused. “Would anyone care to explain why I had reports of screaming?”

“Oh! Sorry Professor! It’s just we were explaining football to the others and they didn’t really believe it would be fun without magic, so we decided to show them… I didn’t think I would enjoy it actually, but it’s been really good. I completely forgot about the noise.” dearest sweet Hermione rambles on. 

“It’s not an issue but remember if you wish to make a school club you will need a staff sponsor and an older student to supervise the meetings.”

“Thank you Professor!”

Later - it’s the topic of discussion between you, Hermione and Dean. A football club? OR a non-magical appreciation club? You think it’s the reminder that you could introduce fiction such as comics, which sways Dean, and the opportunity to reveal new scientific discoveries for Hermione. As for you, well - anything that helps to integrate the two ‘worlds’ is a good thing, right? There may be satellite images of Earth already - but the governments have agreements in place. Once the technology boom that includes smartphones and Google Earth comes into being… Well, life will be easier if there’s a generation familiar with the non-magical side of things. 

You can’t _believe_ you’re already attempting to plan for post-canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes IDEK what even. Apparently football. 
> 
> Sidenote - I have some extras - which will probably include other character POVs, and possibly also scrapped scenes...

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly my self-indulgent crack-fic that will probably get written every time I have a long train journey. It's my... well it could be worse. because escapism is a thing, and why imagine escaping to something happy... so be happy where you are? idk. Self-indulgence - why post? I er... may have told someone I would keep writing... even if my other fic are better and not hosted here... I am srsly out of practice.  
Ooooh, bonus points if you recognise where the title is from... and like 10,000 points if you know the fic that brought me to where the title is from... and a few extra if you got that last reference. ;-)


End file.
